Breakdown or Breakthrough?

Cloudy skies looming over St Albans Verulamium Park
(source: Ian Roullier)

I've thought long and hard about writing this post about mental illness and depression and also whether or not to post it in public like this. A friend told me to do so anonymously if I did but I believe it's extremely important to be honest and frank about mental illness, not hide from it, treat it like an embarrassment or hide it from other people.

What happened recently to Robin Williams has definitely played a part in inspiring me to take this step. I hope other people may benefit from this approach and feel less ashamed about their own difficulties and be more able to share them with their friends and families. At the very least, I hope doing this is cathartic and helps me to rebuild my life in a way that's more balanced and harmonious. There will be those who understand and those that don't but one of the many reasons I've ended up in this place mentally is by being overly concerned about what other people think, and it's time that useless pursuit stopped.

"Happiness is a state of mind, not a set of circumstances," wrote author and counsellor Richard Carlson. The same, to my mind, goes for depression.*

In my working life I have achieved many of my ambitions including:

• Writing a cover feature for iDJ Magazine.
• Writing cover features for DJ Magazine, a magazine I had wanted to write for since I was a teenager.
• Being asked to edit the first ever edition of DJ Magazine Croatia.
• Getting regular work from Mixmag, another magazine I'd wanted to write for since I was 14.
• Writing album reviews for the BBC.
• Being asked to write album sleeve notes and biographies for artists' websites.
• Being a successful business-to-business magazine editor travelling regularly to the Middle East.
• Covering all of the audio duties (studio recording, sound design, music/sting composition, mixing and mastering) sound for a series of radio comedies.
• Being commissioned to do the sound recording, sound design and music for a short film.

And on a personal level, I have a fantastic wife, an amazing set of friends, good relationships with the family members that count and have also recently moved house.

On paper, things could not have been better (although money was still very tight), and I would have bitten your hand off had you presented the above scenario to me just a few years ago. But rather than this being an amazing time of my life, it has proved to be one of the hardest and what I should see as positives just end up being sticks to beat myself with. "You SHOULD be happy," goes the mental dialogue. "Why the hell can't you appreciate all that you've achieved or everything that you have? What's your problem?"

The truth was that I felt completely overwhelmed. I felt like I was doing three jobs, because in fact I was (music journalist, business magazine editor and audio producer), and doing none of them well due to the fact I couldn't focus on any one thing. How could I devote myself to keeping up with the music scene and listen to the steady stream of promos I get sent when I should also be trying to read as much as I can about what's happening in the Middle East oil industry? How could I hone my audio skills and try and get more audio-related work when I was trying to edit and fact check a book about business in China?

As John Foxx says of Brian Eno in David Sheppard's 'On Some Faraway Beach - The Life and Times of Brian Eno': "The dangers inherent in these sorts of activity are fairly obvious […] spreading too wide and thin while not firmly grasping anything significant and losing the distinction between position and attainment." Not that I'm comparing myself to Brian Eno in any way, it just echoes the situation I found myself in of trying to play so many different roles that I could never attain anything tangible within any of them. A jack of all trades, and a master of none.

Freelancing also brings its own inherent problems: there are no working hours, there is no routine (aside from the one you choose to implement) and, for me, there ended up being no 'off' switch where I could differentiate working life from the rest of my life and just relax and enjoy things.

On top of my three (or more) career paths, I was also trying to learn Norwegian at evening classes, studying a music production productivity course (Mike Monday's 'Start Now, Finish Fast) and was part of a music-related 'goal orientated' group. I've always been obsessed with human potential and trying to keep reaching my own potential. I realise now the roots of this probably lie in the thought that I'm just not good enough as I am, so I need to constantly improve and prove myself so I can feel OK about myself. This overwhelming pressure from within led to a never-ending, insurmountable list of things that had to be done that would constantly loom over me. This clearly had to stop.

In November last year I was sent to Saudi Arabia by one of the business clients I did editorial work for and every day I walked around an oil and gas show feeling so absolutely disconnected from my environment and what I was doing. It was like an out of body experience and for the first time in years I could feel panic attacks rising up within me again. While in Saudi Arabia, I was also being pressured for work by the team involved with the short film I was doing the audio for, and I was also trying to squeeze in editing chapters of a business handbook for another client. There seemed no end in sight, nowhere for me to catch my breath and collect my thoughts for a while, no way I could breathe let alone relax.

I couldn't afford financially to take time out of work, but my low mood, the pent up anger and constant, debilitating anxiety meant I couldn't afford not to. I felt so stretched that I was snapping, even the smallest task felt like a huge burden, I had no energy, no emotional buffer. I was quick to anger, to snap, and then the guilt that followed would add another layer of self-recrimination. I felt like I no longer knew who I was any more, I would cry as I searched for an answer to why I felt this way and thought of the impact upon my loved ones.

I went to see a doctor in early December who told me that work clearly seemed to be the root cause of my mental health issues and that's what I needed to tackle. Everything else I needed was in place (a good, supportive relationship with my wife, good friends to talk to, regular cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), practicing meditation etc), the only thing I could do better with was having a healthier diet and exercising more often. Antidepressants were an option but I had come off of those that summer and was reluctant to go back on them, wanting to deal with the underlying problems rather than placing a drug-infused blanket over them (I realise now this really is not the right way to view medication though).

Still, I carried on working stupid hours, neglecting my mental health and my relationships with those closest to me. I did this with a deep knowing that I couldn't carry on like this. I needed to park the car for a while. To stop everything, take stock. Rip it up and start again, as the song goes. I gradually set about reducing my workload, and therefore my income, for example cutting back on my commitments to the short film I was working on for instance (under immense pressure from the producer to carry on regardless).

Then in April, a very good friend and colleague of mine, David, died of complications related to Mantle Cell Lymphoma, having been given the all-clear just a few weeks before. While this was the third time he had fought the condition, David's death still came as a huge shock as it had seemed he was through the worst. He had been a true mentor and inspiration to me. Much of the business editorial work I had been doing had been to help David out while he was ill. My duty and commitment was to helping him, not to the publishing company I had worked at for many years, where an increasingly toxic atmosphere had built up in recent years (despite there being a fantastic team of people there).

I'm still not entirely sure if I'm fully aware of the impact of David's death upon me. At one point during the weeks after his death I convinced myself that I was seriously ill - why would I feel like I lacked the capacity to do the smallest of tasks otherwise? - and once again made an appointment with the doctor (at a different surgery this time as I'd moved house). The same questions were asked and the same conclusion drawn - I had many key elements of support in place but I needed to alter my working arrangements. The doctor sent me for blood tests and offered to write me off work for a couple of weeks but as a self-employed freelancer, who would I give the letter to? I was my own boss. Once again, medication could be used as a last resort but I didn't want to go down that path again. I discovered later that another of David's good friends and colleagues had been through the exact same process after David's death, being convinced he was seriously ill and going to hospital for tests (that came back clear).

I gradually cut my ties with the publishing company (stepping away over the next couple of months) and it took several months to finish the other projects I was involved in, and wind everything down. Turning work away was (and is) completely counterintuitive but I had no choice but to create some space to breathe in.

My various blood test results all came back clear and I realised that I could allow myself to start doing more energetic things again, like going for long walks, which definitely helped improve my state of mind. It's almost that by stopping everything I had become unable to cope with doing anything at all. For a while though, my list of work 'things to do' was simply replaced by a domestic one of fence painting, DIY etc and still I felt overwhelmed and stretched. My whole sense of self-worth was coming from what I could achieve every day, how many tasks I could complete was commensurate with how worthy a person I was. This couldn't go on but I still don't know where people's deep sense of self-worth and their strong foundations come from. This is something I still need to work out.

Have I destroyed my own identity because that identity wasn't good enough or because it clearly didn't make me happy? My ego says I have. 'Why have I thrown everything away?' it yells at me. But sometimes you have to create a vacuum so that new things can come into your life to fill that space. I'd come up with the phrase years ago that "The meaning of life is to live a life with meaning", but didn't really take it to heart enough. Now I have to.

What have I learned or should I say been reminded of by the past nine months? That work is important as far as paying the bills goes but should not come at the top of the list of priorities in life. Your relationships with loved ones, friends, family and (most people forget this one) yourself are far, far more important. As has been said many times before, nobody on their death bed regrets not working harder, but many wish they'd spent more quality time with the people they love.

Within work itself, I also want what I do to have more meaning, to impact positively upon other people (something that writing about oil or construction never does and writing about music may even not, although music itself can be amazingly transformative). Whether this is doing editorial work for a charity, giving treatments of some sort to people (I trained in Reiki 16 years ago, perhaps it's time to start sharing that with people?), becoming a sound therapist or perhaps something I haven't even thought of, I want what I do in my working life to be of benefit to others. Driven not by my ego and an obsession with what 'I am' (a journalist, an editor, an audio producer) but driven by my calling, as this article describes so well.

And where am I now? Well, trying to make sense of it all. Realising that I need to start working again soon to pay the mortgage. Working out which path to choose. Most of my days are still off days. I often can't face going out but force myself to, I don't pick the phone up, no matter who is calling, (as my friends are probably all too aware) because I'm not 'at my best' (not that my genuine friends expect me to be, these are self-inflicted expectations). At the moment I am nothing (workwise at least), I have purposely wiped the slate clean, but it's time to unpark the car again and start moving in life, wherever I end up.

*When I say that depression is a state of mind not a set of circumstances, don't get me wrong. I don't know how I would have got through the past nine months without the support of my wife, friends and family. But no circumstances guarantee that you won't suffer with depression, just as being rich or successful doesn't make you immune from catching a cold, breaking a leg or becoming ill. There are certain ways that you can try to help yourself though that are proven to at least help lift the cloud slightly. These include exercise, eating a healthy diet, CBT, mindfulness and meditation and medication helps some people as well. The main thing to do when you're in such a hole is to speak to your friends and family though, or if this isn't possible an organisation like the Samaritans can help. Remember you don't have to be alone and that asking for help with mental illness is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength and your will to get better.

Sideshow: The Orb Circus continues

Kris 'Thrash' Weston

Well, I posted that last blog, copying in Kris 'Thrash' Weston and The Orb on Twitter, and this is what happened.

It took him a while to find the right words but he seems to have forgotten that all direct tweets generate a message that gets sent to the recipient's email account, even if the sender subsequently deletes them.





First attempt: So we start off with some more family-themed, Greggs-related, skip-related humour. Nowt wrong with that.

Second attempt: Then the insults start.

Third attempt: 'Plank' and 'wanker' clearly weren't descriptive enough so we'll add 'cunt' and a threat of violence shall we? As for support, perhaps he could have just said 'Thanks, but no thanks'?

Final attempt: Aah, that's it, nailed it. No threat of violence as that would probably get him kicked off of Twitter. We'll double the 'cunt' count and make out that I've ruined his day to get some sympathy, when all I set out to do was give him some help.

So, I approached KW as an Orb fan of around 23 years to offer my help and support by sending him the transcript of an interview I did with Alex Paterson about The Orb's live sets. This has somehow transpired in KW calling me a wanker and a cunt and saying he wants to hit me. To say I'm a bit miffed is an understatement. But, as mentioned in my previous post, this is not my battle to fight and just because somebody produces art that you love, that sometimes bears little or no reflection of the personality or likeabilty of the artist. I also need to learn that when someone says they don't want help, then I should respect that and channel my energies elsewhere.

There are a few thoughts I'd like to share and I'll leave it at this for now:

So what came first? Is KW like this because of the way he was treated back in the early 90s or was he treated like that because he showed the same attitude back then? I think it's probably the former. Even if it is the latter, that his personality led to the fall out, that still doesn't excuse his intellectual property being stolen and exploited without him receiving any credit or royalties. The law should be there to protect everyone. Despite his insults, I still hope KW gets justice and the royalties he deserves and is legally due. And when the financial damage is undone, I hope any damage done mentally or emotionally also falls away.

If this is someone who wants no support from people, why is he appealing to people like me, Orb fans from the time he was driving their creative output, to back his new album and raise £38,000? Why are those that have contributed called 'supporters' on his website and why add such niceties as 'I've made every effort to make sure your support counts!'? I was more than happy not to mention his rant or The Orb again, focus on the new project and contribute financially to it. I even considered writing a feature about the story for one of the music magazines I write for to help his cause. Then I read the tweets above. Regardless of how much I love The Orb's early output, why would I contribute any money to someone I tried to help and then treats me with no respect and calls me a cunt? Friends can call me that in jest and I don't mind in the slightest, and this is a great tune, but it's all about context. My original actions were rooted in kindness, but don't mistake my kindness for weakness.

Finally, why bother sharing the rant in public in the first place if KW wanted no reaction, no support and no comment from anyone else on it? Yes, writing it was probably cathartic for him but sharing it publicly will have made no difference in that respect. Surely he could just have written it, got it all out of his head and on to paper/screen and got on with starting legal action. Then he could easily have done what he insists he and everyone should do and focus on his new project rather than the past.

I have no idea what psychological issues may be involved here. Alex Paterson's Huge Ever-Growing Pulsating Ego? Or KW looking for drama and attention and then playing a game when people, whether they're long-term fans or not, actually give it to him? Perhaps he has just been completely messed up by the whole experience, for which he has my sympathy (regardless of whether he wants it or not). Perhaps he's insecure. Perhaps the ultimate truth is he's just not a very nice person. Who knows?

Whatever it is, I couldn't care less any more. I'll still listen to and enjoy Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld, UFOrb, Blue Room and the like but without an apology (which I know I'll never get) I won't be investing any more money, time or energy into Kris 'Thrash' Weston. Life's way too short.

The Orb Circus

“Not my circus, not my monkeys” – Polish proverb

The other day I checked in on Twitter, something I don’t do very often because of the key flaw in Twitter; the more people you follow, the harder it is to keep up with people or gauge what’s going on. Anyway, I came across this message from @swearymonkey:

I clicked through and then read an extensive rant from Kris Weston (KW aka Thrash), formerly of The Orb, against ‘Dr’ Alex Paterson (AP) and other Orb members and collaborators over the years (I’d actually forgotten that @swearymonkey was Thrash until then to be honest).

He originally posted the rant to Twitter with this message:

The general gist of the rant is summed up here:

“As a result of the constant unauthorised re-releases, the unauthorised remasters by people i would never let touch my music, the fraudulent royalties, the lies, the shameful exploitation of my work by Island / Universal Records, the stealing of my work and renaming it, the illegal broadcasting of my music at gigs and such without my permission, the unauthorised use of my intellectual property and one other seriously fucked up thing I have decided to wage all out war against these people until such time as they stop exploiting my work, give me the money they owe me and GTFO.”

Much of what KW writes is contained within a Gearslutz forum interview he did towards the end of last year. In short, having been responsible for what was The Orb’s creative and commercial peak, KW had received little recognition for his percentage of the workload at the time, subsequently not received his fair share of the royalties and then seen his hard work passed off as someone else’s and his production credits dropped. His opinion of AP comes across loud and clear:

“The truth is Alex Patterson is a DJ. He cannot play an instrument or write music on a computer or anything else […] [H]e has spent the last 25 years in the press trying to cover up the fact he plays no instrument and doesn’t know how to use any piece of music technology. He can hardly manage to send an email!”

While I realised this was just one side of the story, I felt for Kris – I hate injustice in all of its forms and he seemed to have been wronged constantly during and after his time with The Orb (and I can only imagine what the other “seriously fucked up thing”, that “serious allegation against him [Alex Paterson] and Youth which I’m not getting into here” is).

The Orb's Kris 'Thrash' Weston and Alex Paterson, 1993. (Image source: Sound On Sound/The Ferrari Brothers)

Why do I care about The Orb? My sister introduced me to The Orb’s debut album ‘Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld’ when I was around 14/15 and it was like nothing I’d ever heard before. Expansive, richly layered compositions laced with ambient and dub that the more you listened to, the more you heard. If that first listen wasn’t life-changing, it was definitely an epiphany for me. Its depth and beauty was a far cry from the hard-edged rave music I was listening to at the time; I even wrote an essay about it for GCSE English. As with many of the bands you love during your formative, teenage years, The Orb’s music has stuck with me ever since. Then ‘Pomme Fritz’ came along in 1994 and as much as I tried to love it, it just sounded like a meandering, directionless, self-indulgent mess. Listening to it while I type this, my stance on it has softened slightly, but it’s nowhere near the exciting, immersive and captivating Orb material that went before.

Years later this dip in form was explained to me during an interview with Alex Paterson. He said they’d thrown out the original version of the album and rushed together the version that was released to spite their record company who he said had left them out of pocket.

Anyway, I cast my mind back to that interview with AP (or Twattercake as Kris often calls him in his rant) for IDJ magazine and a feature called ‘Pioneers of Live Dance’. If what KW says is true, then interviewing AP for this was misguided and almost laughable, although nobody has had KW’s side of the story until now and AP’s had been the only voice available. As KW has extensively quoted interviews with AP during his rant, I thought I would put a more extensive transcript of the interview I did with AP out there. I even asked a couple of fellow Orb loving friends on Facebook if I should and they said to go for it so I did.

As you can see, there was nothing much groundbreaking that was discussed during the interview, but I felt it might help KW’s cause. So I sent him the link and the exchange (where I've clearly, perhaps prematurely, taken his side) panned out as follows:

Fair enough you’d probably argue, KW does say at the start of his rant not to contact him about it. So I left it at that and moved on. I thought I’d read through his Kickstarter (or Krisstarter as he’s called it) page on his website and thought I’d give some support to him in the way that he actually DID want it, by contributing towards the funding of his new album. It was then I came across this sentence:

“I've found myself caring more how I'm living than what I'm earning."

This resonated with me massively due to difficulties I have recently been through personally, followed by taking stock of what is truly important in life (more of which in another blog perhaps). So I decided to tweet the quote. The following conversation then happened, which I thought was mindless, not-very-funny gibberish but light-hearted gibberish nonetheless:

Hilarious, I'm sure you'll agree. His reaction, while fairly polite in its tone, seemed completely unfair and I was a bit miffed though. I showed the exchange to my wife and she said: “This looks like two mad people talking to each other. He sounds like an arsehole, why do you care?”

Indeed. This was a complete stranger I was chatting to, and by bestowing him with positive qualities it made me no better than a rabid One Direction fan. Besides, as a music journalist that has always treated interviewees as people above all else, equals rather than stars or idols, I should have known better. But if supporting somebody is annoying, if caring about people who have made some of the music that defined your teenage years and beyond is annoying, if showing some compassion is annoying, then I think I’ll just continue to be as annoying as I possibly can.

I come out of this wondering what the full truth is, but even if it’s somewhere in between what AP says in interviews and what KW says in his rant (and his ex-manager and others previously involved with the Orb say), it seems to be a pretty negative and bitter situation. With my own personal dealings with KW taken into account, it seems that neither party is particularly nice or covers themselves in glory: one man responsible for stealing all of the credit (and royalties) for somebody else’s work and another man who, understandably angry, is lashing out at people without considering whether they may actually be trying to help him. At a time like this, you need support, people fighting your corner, especially if those people are the ones you would like to fund your new album project.

The moral is, just because people have created something you love (like ‘Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld’), it doesn’t mean you would love the people that have created it. I genuinely hope that AP puts forward his side of the story (and holds his hands up if need be) and that KW gets the credit, respect and royalties he seems to be long overdue. In the meantime, I shall continue to listen to ‘…Ultraworld’ without any of this buzzing around my head and souring the experience.

I have to take the standpoint that this isn’t my fight to fight, which is what reminded me of the Polish proverb above: ‘not my circus, not my monkeys’. This battle between KW and AP is not my fight to fight, and they’re not my monkeys to train.

PS Since I wrote this, KW has unblocked me on Twitter. Storms. Teacups. Monkeys. Circuses.

Meeting Ince

Lee Valley - No sign for the Magic Wood?

Having allowed the non-stop deadline pressure that comes with freelancing, and my lack of a mental off switch, take its toll on me over the past few years, I finally decided that it was time to take a proper break. Without the funds to disappear on a round-the-world trip, I decided to do some exploring closer to home in Cheshunt, where I had moved with my wife at the end of last year.

Luckily, I have Lee Valley Regional Park on my doorstep, all 26 miles and 20,000 acres of it. Having spotted a wooded hilltop when walking in the park with friends recently, my curiosity told me that it was now time to go for a nice wander and explore it.

After about 90 minutes of marching around the winding paths and waterways, I was so close to the woods I could almost smell them. Google Maps (which told me it was called Galleyhill Wood) had suggested I walk along B194 but I decided cross-country was better, wisely I thought. However, following a cycle path saw me overshoot the wood and somehow I still ended up on the B194.

The B194 is a road with absolutely no footpaths and speeding vans and trucks hurtling in both directions. But I was determined to reach the promised land so I kept diving into gaps in the hedge to avoid being hit. Some people waved at me gratefully (having me smeared across their windscreen may have been a bit of a day-changer) while one van driver beeped his horn, perhaps at me, perhaps to alert other people up ahead.

Then, on a blind bend I looked behind me and saw a truck speeding towards me, I looked ahead and saw another truck speeding towards me so I dived back into the hedgerow. Now I had a choice. 10 more minutes of white knuckle, near-death experiences involving large metal objects or try to attempt to get through the hedgerow.

Thankfully there was a telegraph pole behind me, which meant the hedgerow was less thick at that point. Thorns stuck in my hands as I bent branches back to create a gap. Then manmade, barbed wire thorns scratched and cut my hands as I tried to create a space to launch myself through.

Initially, I tried to put me leg over the barbed wire fence and got some rusty little spikes in my leg. So plan B it was. I decided to put my flimsy jacket on for protection and to crawl on my belly underneath the barbed wire, assault course-style. But something stopped me. My hood had become ensnared! So I twanged the barbed wire off of it and I was FREE! Well sort of.

The beautiful meadow.

I was now in a beautiful meadow full of grass and vibrant yellow flowers. But I was also now trespassing. Plus, as I walked the distance between the road and me became wider, meaning I was walking deeper into private land, and perhaps trouble.

Then a horrifying sound that made me shout, “Aaagggh!”

Had I been shot? No. It was just a couple of pheasants that I'd disturbed flapping their way out of the long grass. I felt like an idiot but at least no one was around.

I walked through into another field, this time using the conventional entry method of a gate, to see a bonfire in the distance. Civilisation! As I approached the bonfire it appeared to be a pile of burning shit. Or perhaps it was a previous trespasser? Anyway, it was clear there was a farm there at least, and the possibility of a road back to public land.

I was hoping nobody was around but was mindful of a Tony Martin incident happening so shouted a weak “Hello?” A few more paces and there he was, the farmer. As broad as he was tall and definitely not smiling at me welcomingly. I decided to blurt out my (true) story in the hope he wouldn’t call the police, or shoot me in the face.

“Where are you trying to get to?” he asked.

“I’m trying to get to the woods up there. I got stuck on the road and was in danger of getting hit by the traffic. So I had no choice but to go through the fence into your field.  I realise I’m trespassing. Sorry.”

“You’re not allowed in those woods, you’d get arrested straight away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Where are you from?”

“Cheshunt. I’d seen the woods from the park and wanted to go and have a look.”

"Well, there is a footpath up the side of the wood but you’re not allowed inside them. It’s dangerous. They use them for shooting.”

“They probably shoot trespassers too,” I joked.

Not so much as a smirk from the farmer. I’d decided to turn back now anyway though; of the options of death by truck or angry farmer, neither was very appealing.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“Ince.”

“Ian. Nice to meet you.” (Or rather thanks for not shooting me.)

As I shook his huge, dirt-caked, sandpapery hand, I was just glad it wasn't clamped around my throat.

I stuck faithfully to the paths on the way home, shamefaced but laughing every now and then at what a misguidedly tenacious arse I can sometimes be.

ROFLMAO Episode One

No posting on here for a while but that's because I've been working hard on getting the sound design, music and editing done on this. ROLFMAO is a new radio comedy featuring the writing talents of Ewan Thomson, the acting expertise of Peter Halpin, Millie Reeves and John Hubbard (and Ewan himself) and the audio jiggerypokery of me, Ian Roullier (or should that be Tim/Bob?).

Episode one features the strenuous discussions over the show's theme music, an unsympathetic, superstitious policeman as well as radio's 'whackiest' DJ. Not to mention Vera Lynn and some dubstep.

Sit back, enjoy and allow yourself a chuckle.

UPDATED: Episodes two and three...

Episode two: Have you got thick?

Episode three: Behind the scenes at EastEnders, 24: Cardiff and an extremely embarrassing bus journey.

Funeral Songs

I was at a club night run by some friends recently when the DJ started playing a certain track. “I’ve always thought I wanted this tune played at my funeral,” I turned to my friend and said. He looked a bit bemused or maybe uncomfortable (after all, it’s hard to tell in a dark nightclub) that I should mention something so morbid but it got me thinking. While there are so many people out there opting for ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams or Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ as their swansong, I started thinking, ‘Why not choose something a bit different?’

So, while it may seem a bit morbid and I hope to remain on this mortal coil for a good 100 years longer, I came up with this list of potential songs I’d like played at my funeral. What would yours be?

1. Joe Smooth - ‘Promised Land’ This was the track that came on in the club. It’s very cheesy and about “angels up above” and may well have been written about Ecstasy (the drug) rather than ecstasy (the heavenly type) but it should bring a smile to people’s faces.

2. Future Sound of London - ‘Papua New Guinea’ In my opinion, the best dance track ever made. A bold claim but it’s my opinion and I’m standing by it. It’s danceable but uplifting, pumping but mellow and moves both feet and souls.

3. Aphex Twin – Untitled (also known as ‘Rhubarb’) A great believer that music without words can move people just as much, if not more than, a song with set, concrete lyrics, this is one of Richard James’ most beautiful ambient compositions. A track that proves you don’t need a song about love, angels or bunny rabbits to make people well up.

4. The Orb - ‘Blue Room’ This is a bit of a cheeky one but just as the Orb’s Dr Alex Paterson decided to take the piss by releasing a track that lasted just three seconds less than the legal 40 minute limit for a track to qualify for the singles chart (this rule has since changed several times), the full-length ‘Blue Room’ would preclude the need for any tributes, eulogies or any other words to be spoken during the service. Or for anything else to happen for that matter. The congregation could always sing along from their hymn sheets: “Owooowowooowowooowowooowawa”!

5. Moby – ‘Thousand’ A bit like playing Motorhead’s ‘Ace of Spades’, this 1,000 bpm monster is guaranteed to wake people up and should weed out anyone who’s just turned up to make up the numbers. A definite Marmite moment to split the crowd between ‘sitters’ and ‘quitters’.